Speed is the greatest pleasure of driving. Just speed's essence isn't constitute on the racetrack, the drag strip, or the Bonneville Salt Flats. The best expression of the joy of going fast that I've ever seen was at five miles per hr. I let my eight-twelvemonth-old son drive the tractor.

I put it in a crawling gear. His stubby legs didn't matter—the Kubota has a paw throttle. He gave the lever a tentative pull and rocketed forrard to almost jog-trot step. His eyes, his grin, his very soul widened in exhilaration.

There'south a misconception that driving apace is just a thrill. The drug called "speed" would suffice if thrills were all yous wanted. When y'all factor in exciting ambulance rides to the ER for overdoses, exploding meth labs, and raids by DEA agents armed with automatic weapons, drugs are a more reliable source of thrills than a Bugatti Veyron.

2013 Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport Vitesse

2013 Bugatti Veyron 16.4 Grand Sport Vitesse

Crowding the redline through an S-bend produces adrenaline. But the heart beats at a steady pace compared with the pounding information technology takes when y'all stand up at the altar every bit your foreseeable hereafter is marched downward the alley by her dad. And that, in plow, is nothing compared with the moment in the delivery room when your firstborn arrives—naked terror, indeed.

Lovers of adrenaline for its own sake should eschew fast driving. It's cool nerve that's needed, non sweating, drooling fear. If those who seek terror's encephalon stimulation don't have the guts for union or parenthood, let them bungee bound.

The bliss of  fast driving is unlike. There's a calm sense of mastery over circumstance. The rest of the world may be out of command—unruly economy, runaway politics, our teenage daughters friending Whitney Houston's ex-husband, Bobby Brown, on Facebook—but not when our easily are at nine and iii and our pes is deep down on the accelerator pedal.  All day long, things proceed coming at the states; now nosotros're coming at them.

2012 Audi R8 GT

2012 Audi R8 GT

Past driving fast, we achieve a perfect focus of the heed. There is no yoga mat similar a car. Nothing is more transcendental to meditate upon than the line through a bend. Buddhists say enlightenment comes suddenly. Sudden is what we're all virtually. We are the grin fat guy, except we'd better not be sitting with our legs crossed or we'll have a trouble hitting the brakes.

Speed is Zen on wheels. Or speed is the "zone" athletes talk well-nigh getting into. Fast driving is an athletic attempt simply ane with adult dignity. You can do it in a bespoke suit—no need for balloon shoes, trash-bag shorts, or funny mascara cheek smudges.  And you don't have to pause in your zone for commercials unless the dispensation of speeding tickets is considered a commercial activity, which it is.

But almost of all, speed is love. The feelings we get from speed are the feelings nosotros get when we're falling in love—obsession, bliss, consummate emotional and physical appointment. And we tin experience these feelings over and over with any number of partners: Austin-Healey 3000, Shelby Cobra, Ferrari Daytona, Lamborghini Diablo, Corvette ZR1, Audi R8. Information technology's amend to have affairs similar these than to keep falling in dearest with new people. My wife only gets a little angry when I drive also fast.

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